Ring Ring
by Mild Peril
Summary: Ryan gets a phone call in the middle of the night. He should have known it was a bad idea to pick up the phone. An alternative version to what happened when Trey got out of prison. Language rating.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fan fiction so would be great to know what people think- constructive criticism appreciated. This is set somewhere in earl/ middle series two and is an alternative version to what happened when Trey got out of prison. My memory is a little hazy so let me know if I get something about the season drastically wrong. Will be full of Ryan angst! 

Disclaimer: I do not own the O.C.

Chapter 1 

Ring ring.

Ryan awoke to the incessantly annoying sound. There was something especially irritating about being dragged out of sleep by high-pitched electronic sounds. Better than yelling, fists or the accusations of a drunken mother, but still damn annoying.

Ring ring.

What time was it? Ryan glanced over at the clock on the night sound, hoping it wasn't time to get up. 2.03, the fluorescent display read. Shit. Who the hell was calling at this hour?

Ring ring.

The irritation finally won over and Ryan forced himself out of bed to answer the phone. No one in the main house seemed to be showing any sign of picking up.

"Hello?" He mumbled indistinctly, rubbing the heel of his hand against his clenched shut eyes.

"Ryan? Ryan man, is that you?" The voice was urgent and instantly recognisable. Ryan snapped his eyes open, suddenly alert. He should have known. Calls at this hour in the morning were never good news.

"Ryan?" his brother's voice urged.

"Trey." Ryan stated matter of factly. Ryan could think of nothing that he wanted to say to his brother. It had all been said, good or bad, at one point or another. Nothing good could come out of this. Nothing good ever came out of an Atwood.

"Hey man, how are you?" Trey asked. Ryan sighed.

"Get to the point Trey. It's two in the morning. This isn't a social call, is it?" Ryan's voice was hostile. He could feel the tension and the anger bubbling inside of him.

"What, I can't check up on my little bro any more?" Trey tried. Silence followed. Ryan was clearly not in the mood for chat. Trey had hoped he wouldn't have to come straight to this. "Ryan, I'm out of prison".

Ryan remained silent. He was pretty sure there was more to come. After the last time he'd seen Trey, at Thanksgiving, he had made it obvious that there would be no more favours. Trey had told him at the time to stay away from Chino. He had a shot at life now. Ryan sure as hell hoped that he wasn't about to go back on that now…

"I'd really like to see you bro. I'm out now, it's different. We can be family again. I… I know you're in Newport now, I know you're life isn't in Chino anymore, but blood is thicker than water, right?" Ryan's breath hitched. Please, god, he prayed, don't ask Trey to make me give this up. Because at the end of the day, as much as Ryan liked his life in Newport, however happy he was here, however much it was the best thing for him, the best thing that had ever happened to him, Ryan knew he couldn't just turn his back entirely on his family. His was always going to be split between his old life and his new one. He couldn't just chose one life and stick with it, because life didn't work like that. The past didn't just disappear whenever something new happened.

"What do you want Trey? You want to see me, or you want something from me?" Ryan asked abruptly. There was no point drawing it out, turning it into a sensitive issue.

This time, the silence came from the other end of the phone. Ryan gripped the receiver hard, his impatience building, not just because of his brother's silence, but also from the almost certain knowledge that nothing good would come out of this. Better just to get it over with quickly. That way it would be a short, sharp, sting, and maybe the after affects would fade quickly. No matter how many times Ryan hoped that something in his family had changed, that he could trust them, or even just see them once without everything going wrong, he couldn't help himself from being pessimistic. They always let him down.

"Ryan, listen, it's not like last time. I promise." The silences were becoming oppressive.

"I just need to see you bro, I need you." Trey pleaded.

Ryan sighed. "Look, Trey, I don't want to get dragged into anything here. I'm trying to start afresh. I'm trying to forget all the shit. I can't keep getting into this stuff." Ryan too was pleading with his brother, asking him not to ask, because if he asked, Ryan wasn't sure if he could say no. Just like he could never say no to his mom, or to Theresa, or to pretty much anyone who asked anything of him. He didn't know how much left he had to give before he would be empty, before he would give up and resign himself to his old life, because it just didn't ever seem to want to let him go.

"I'm gonna have to go in a minute Ry, my coins are running out. But please, meet me at the diner on Fourth Street for lunch tomorrow. I need to see you man." Trey begged.

"Trey…" Ryan began to object, but the phone went dead. He slumped against the cool glass wall of the pool house and stared silently at the receiver for several minutes, as if willing it to change things somehow. He glared at it. Stupid fucking thing. Never had any good news.

It remained unapologetic.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

Ryan shuffled into the kitchen at 6.30 AM, having finally realised that he wasn't going to be getting any more sleep and deciding that he might as well get some caffeine in his system.

"Morning, kiddo" Ryan lifted his hand in greeting at Sandy, who was sitting at the counter in his surf gear.

"You're up even earlier than usual" Sandy commented.

"Couldn't sleep", Ryan replied gruffly, pulling a mug out of the cupboard and filling it with coffee from the jug.

Sandy merely raised his generous eyebrows before draining the dregs off his coffee.

"Well I'm gonna hit the waves. Don't suppose I can tempt you with an early morning swim, since you're up anyway?"

It was Ryan's turn to raise his eyebrows. As Sandy left the kitchen, Ryan slumped at the counter and reached for the paper. Staring at the words on the page, he soon realised that he wasn't paying any attention whatsoever. He couldn't even remember the headline. He just couldn't take his mind off Trey. Should he go, or should he not… Ryan knew that Trey was going to ask for something from him; whether it was money, a "favour" or a place to stay, he didn't know.

But at the same time, Trey was family. Chino accounted for 16 years of his life. He couldn't expect to just drop it. Chino made him who he was. And Trey had been there for him in the past, in his own way. And now he was out of prison, maybe, just maybe, he would try and change. Now that Dawn and he were gone, Trey had no strings attached. Not that he had ever paid them much attention in the past. But maybe it was time for Trey to get a new start too. Ryan knew it was a long shot, but he just couldn't ever seem to give up hope on his family. There was always that 0.01 chance that something had changed and somehow Ryan always seemed to let those odds dwarf all else.

It was 12 o' clock, and Ryan had made up his mind. He was resolute. He would meet with Trey, see how he was doing, see if anything had really changed. But if Trey wanted money, or another favour, he wouldn't damn well get it. This time Ryan would look after his own interests for once. He couldn't screw up what he had with the Cohens.

Grabbing his jacket, Ryan knocked on the door of the study where Kirsten was spending her Saturday preparing for the re-launch of the Newport Group.

"Come in!" called Kirsten. She looked up from the papers scattered over her desk with a smile. "I knew it would be you. You're the only person in this family who's polite enough to knock," she notes.

"I brought you a cup of coffee," Ryan smiled back, placing the mug down on her desk. "No milk and one sugar, right?" he questions.

"I knew there was someone in this house who loved me" Kirsten smiled as she reached out for the mug. Ryan smiled back with his eyes lowered. He couldn't quite get used to the easy acceptance of the Cohens. He would always feel gratitude towards them.

"Um, Kirsten, could I borrow the car? I've got to meet with someone from school for a project." Ryan wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to lie, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Sandy and Kirsten wouldn't much approve of the reappearance of Trey in Ryan's life, even though they didn't know exactly what had happened at Thanksgiving. Seeing as Ryan wasn't even sure he would be seeing Trey again after today, he figured it would be easier to let it slide. He would talk to them about it if there were a serious chance of Trey becoming a permanent feature in his life again. Ryan privately scoffed at that idea. The only thing permanent about the Atwoods was the surname.

"Sure honey, how long will you be out?" Kirsten replied. Ryan was slightly uneasy at betraying the trust that Kirsten had in him, but he told himself that it was for her own good. It was a white lie.

"Um, maybe a few hours? I'll be back for dinner." Ryan said. One way or another, he would be. He was not going to get dragged into one of Trey's messes today.

"Okay, don't work too hard. See you this evening," Kirsten gave a mock salute with her hand and turned back to her papers as Ryan slid backwards out of the door to go grab the car keys.

Coming out of the study, Ryan almost ran directly into a dishevelled looking Seth, rubbing his eyes and looking barely awake.

"Whoa, dude, you're like, up and dressed. That is indecent. It's the crack of dawn." Seth exclaimed.

"Seth, it's gone twelve. It's the afternoon," Ryan answered dubiously.

"Seriously, what land did you come from? Are teenagers not normal in Chino? What self-respecting teenager would be up before noon on a Saturday? It's against the law. They should really put it in the constitution." Seth paused, yawning. "Where are you going anyway?" he asked, suddenly noticing Ryan's shoes and jacket and realising that he was ready to go out.

"Out." Stated Ryan.

"Eloquent as always. Are you, by any chance gonna tell me where, seeing as you are forsaking quality Seth/ Ryan time in favour of "out"?" Seth enquired.

"Lunch," Ryan informed him.

"Okaaay… So, you are going to leave me to wallow in misery over my loveless state with only my old friend playstation 2 to keep me company?" Seth asked.

"Pretty much. See you later Seth," Ryan answered, smiling and brushing past Seth to collect the car keys on his way out of the front door.

"If it wasn't the crack of dawn, I could fully have talked him out of that one." Seth muttered as he continued to shuffle towards the kitchen. "I guess I've always got captain oats. He talks more than Ryan anyway…"

Ryan tapped the steering wheel nervously as he approached the diner where he was due to meet Trey. It was a place they had frequented when they were both young living in Chino. Close enough to walk to, but comfortably far away enough from Dawn and her latest boyfriend whenever they needed an escape.

Ryan didn't know exactly what time to expect Trey, so he figured he would just have to hang around and wait for him. Always assuming he turned up- there was every chance that Trey would get cold feet about whatever he had wanted to see Ryan about, or that he was too stoned to remember that they had agreed to meet.

Ryan pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. What was he doing here if he wasn't prepared to give his brother a chance? Ryan parked the car in a side street and checked the doors and windows. Most people in Chino would avoid a fancy car- the alarms and lock systems were just too much hassle- but there was always a chance someone would give it a go regardless.

As he neared the diner, Ryan found himself itching for a cigarette. There was something about Chino that made him want to revert back to old habits. It was just a part of Chino life.

He chose a secluded booth in the corner of the diner. He had a feeling that they wouldn't much want to be overheard. He ordered a cup of coffee to justify the table. He found he didn't have much of an appetite. Between the nerves, the caffeine and the cigarette cravings, Ryan was pretty on edge. He slouched back against the seat and picked up and abandoned copy of the local paper, simply for the sake of having something to do. Now all he could do was wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Finally, 3 cups of coffee and a bagel later, Ryan saw his brother enter the diner. He looked jumpy. Ryan was immediately on his guard. Trey spotted Ryan out of the corner of his eye and headed over with his head bent and the collar of his denim jacket pulled up.

"Hey man. I was afraid you wouldn't make it", he said to Ryan. Ryan noted that he was smiling but that his head was still down and his eyes nervously darted left and right. Ryan's eyes narrowed, but his face remained otherwise passive. Trey had never been so good at the poker face. His emotions tended to come flying out as soon as you hit the button.

"Hey." Ryan answered levelly, as Trey slid into the seat opposite. He was sure of it now. Something was up. Ryan smiled inwardly but without mirth at the casual greeting between the two, as if the past had never happened and this was just an ordinary meeting between brothers. The Atwoods had never been good with words. There was simply too much to say.

"So what's up?" he asked, getting to the point passively but directly. Cut the crap: the traditional Atwood approach. But he didn't want to anger his brother: he'd had experience of that, and he rarely came out on top.

Trey looked at Ryan, but seemed unwilling to make eye contact, his eyes darting from Ryan's eyebrows to his chin to his own cuff, as he picked a thread. Finally, he licked his lips and began to speak. "I… I'm in some trouble man," he answered.

Ryan sighed. This was getting old. He resisted the urge to simply get up and walk away, hoping he wouldn't regret it later.

"Trey, I've told you already, I'm not helping you with any more favours. I don't owe you anything." Finally, Trey's panicked eyes met Ryan's.

"I'm your brother, Ry. Doesn't that count for anything?" he pleaded.

Ryan tensed. "Not for whatever you're about to ask me for." He spat, unable to keep the sting from his voice.

"I just need some cash, just a loan. I just need to get them off my back", Trey begged, convincing himself as much as Ryan as his eyes continued to dart around the room, as if constantly searching for an escape. Ryan couldn't remember ever seeing his brother so jumpy, not even when the cops had caught them. Maybe that was what being in prison would do for a guy. Ryan didn't want this conflict. He reached into his pocket to get his wallet and pay the bill. Trey's eyes went greedily to few bills that Ryan pulled out and he grabbed Ryan's wrist. Ryan looked up, wary.

"I need this man. That family you're with, they're loaded, right? You can always get more." He argued, driven by the flash of cash.

Ryan felt his lips draw into a thin line at the throw away reference to the Cohens. "They don't owe me anything, and they sure as hell don't owe you." He responded coldly.

He felt something in his brother change as Trey slowly relinquished his grip on Ryan's wrist. His eyes focused on Ryan intently. There was something dangerous in them. Ryan had only ever seen those eyes focused on AJ. Something within him froze and his heart beat a little quicker. This did not bode well.

"Don't you owe me the chance to get on with my life?" he asked, the pleading tone slipping into his own voice, just a little. "You were going to give me my chance."

"I'm sorry Ryan. But this isn't just about you anymore. I needthe money, one way or another. Are you gonna help me, or not?" All pretence of warmth was lost. Trey needed something. He had brought Ryan here to get it.

Slowly but deliberately, Ryan shook his head. There was something ominous here. Ryan somehow didn't think it was going to be as simple as a yes or no answer.

"Then, I'm sorry, Ry." The finality in his voice sent further warning bells ringing in his head, but Ryan was powerless to react as Trey reached into his back pocket, and drew out a dull metal object.

For a moment it didn't click with Ryan. It was black, solid and unrelenting.

It was a gun.

A/N: love it or hate it, please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

Ryan sat frozen as his brother stood, breaking eye contact, and swivelled round to face the restaurant, pointing the gun from a guy in overalls with a doughnut in his hand, halfway to his mouth, now dripping jam all over the table, to the cashier, a teenage looking boy, to a mother and her kid.

Ryan couldn't believe this was really happening. Even as that thought occurred, he laughed at himself mentally for using the clichéd phrase, but this was surely not his brother, standing their pointing a gun at kids. It was a joke. A sick joke.

Something in Ryan's mind snapped and he clicked back into reality. This was his brother standing there.

"Trey, what the fucking hell? You want to go back to prison? You only just got out!" he yelled as he rose. Easy, easy, he chastised himself. This was not the time to lose control over his temper. The child began to whimper as Ryan stood. The mother covered his ears with her hands, kissing his forehead, her eyes shifting, as if physically drawn, from Trey to Ryan. Ryan silently apologised. "Sit down Trey. This isn't the way," he reasoned.

Trey didn't seem to be in the mood for reasoning.

"You had you're chance to change this Ryan. Just shut up and make sure no one gets them self shot. Get where I can see you," he ordered Ryan, gesturing with his head. Ryan had gone from brother to hostage in twenty seconds flat. Maybe it was more than that. Maybe they'd stopped being brothers the moment Ryan had walked out of the prison at Thanksgiving.

"Move it," Trey insisted. For a moment Ryan considered tackling his brother from behind and wrangling the gun from his grip, but suddenly Ryan was acutely aware of the hitched breath of the child, the terrified gaze of the mother, and the man's doughnut, still slowly oozing jam onto the table. He edged into his brother's view, holding his hands to his side with his palms raised. Please, god, just give him the money and let him get out, Ryan silently begged of the cashier.

Ryan wasn't afraid for himself. Years dealing with his mother's boyfriends and the streets of Chino had hardened him to violence. He almost expected it. Newport, had, at best, offered temporary relief. His instincts were shaped to deal with violence. He was simply resigned to the situation. All he felt was a burning shame, that this was _his _brother, who he had grown up with, played soccer with, fought with, gone to school with. And Ryan hadn't stopped him from growing into the man standing before him now.

Trey flicked the gun towards the cashier. "You. I want everything from the register and the safe. Everything you've got".

The teen behind the desk gulped silently and Ryan heard his rapid, shallow breaths. Ryan wondered if the kid was about to hyperventilate. The boy's hands fumbled into action as he tried to force them, sweaty and shaking, to open the register. Trey edged closer, staring hungrily at the paper bills as the boy emptied the register.

"Good. Now put them on the counter over there in a doughnut box or something. Keep your hands where I can see them." Trey instructed. The boy did as he was told, having now turned a faint shade of green. "Okay, now move away and tell me where the safe is." Trey instructed as he made to grab the box, which now contained hundreds of dollars in bills. The boy backed away, growing more and more agitated. It looked like he was working up the courage to speak. Ryan felt his muscles tense. He couldn't really believe that Trey would shoot someone, especially not a scared-as- hell teenage shop worker, but as far as guns were concerned, it was best to stay the hell away. Ryan had seen first hand evidence of that before.

"There… there's no money in the safe," the teen half whispered. "My mom took it to the bank last night. Honest, that's all there is…" The words tumbled out of his mouth. Ryan watched as Trey's breathing quickened and his eyes again began to flicker from side to side. Shit, he silently cursed. Trey was getting panicked and angry, his most dangerous combination.

"Don't fucking lie kid, this isn't worth your life. And it isn't worth theirs." He growled, waving the gun at the child. Ryan tore his eyes off Trey and glanced at the other occupants of the restaurant. The boy had stopped crying and was now sitting deadly still, wrapped in the arms of his mother. Ryan glanced over to the overalled man. He had finally dropped the doughnut into the pool of sticky jam on the table and was eying the gun warily. He seemed edgy, as if trying to come to a decision. Ryan silently implored for him not to try anything. This could all be over quickly and cleanly, with just a few hundred dollars, the innocence of a child and a brother lost.

Ryan ignored the feelings tearing at his insides and refocused his attention on Trey, who was gradually creeping closer to the cashier, who accordingly backed further up against the wall, turning increasingly green and pasty.

Three things happened at once. Trey barged forwards and began to swing himself over the counter to get to the kid. The overalled man lunged up and barrelled into Trey's midsection. The gun fired and the kid collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Ryan was split two ways, unable to decide whether to get to the kid or join the scrabble for the gun.

Soon the decision was out of his hands. As the overalled man grappled for the gun with Trey, the trigger went off. Ryan saw the spark from the barrel of the gun and the blur of movement that meant a bullet had been fired. A split second later, the bang registered, but before he could take action, something punched into his shoulder, knocking him backwards with the force of a grown man. Unable to stop himself he crashed backwards against the full length window of the diner. He felt a thousand tiny splinters slicing into his skin as he fell through the glass, and then his head connected with something hard and cold. Ryan felt the impact reverberate around his skull, could almost feel every bone as it vibrated. He was too confused to register what had happened or what the burning in his shoulder meant. He took an oddly constricted breath as he tried to think through the painful blank, dizzy feeling that engulfed his mind. Staring up, the sharp shards of glass hanging on now stretched threads of adhesive caught his eye as they wavered in the empty frame, glinting and flashing in the sunlight, almost like icicles. He barely had time to register the icy dagger of glass as it finally dropped and sliced into his chest. He felt only a splitting pain as the numb blanketed sensation overcame his curiosity and he slipped into the dizzying darkness.

Trey was sprawled backwards over the counter, straining his head to see past the overalled bastard who had jumped him. He allowed the gun to drop and threw overalled bastard off him with a final shove. Overalled bastard retrieved the gun and withdrew against the wall, where the clerk, who had fainted, was coming round.

Trey stared at the lifeless form of his brother lying on the floor. Had he fucking killed him? Blood trickled out of the corner of Ryan's mouth. The bubbling gasp that issued from the form was hardly a comfort. Trey felt the bile rose up in his throat as his stomach churned and he lost control over its contents; collapsing against a booth, he threw up on the floor.

"Shit!" He whispered, "shit," he repeated, his voice growing in volume and his tongue was assaulted by the acidic sweetness of the bile. He hadn't meant to hurt Ryan, emotionally or physically, but he was his brother, he was desperate, he had no one else to turn to. Ryan had always been there for him when it mattered. Trey straightened and wiped his mouth against his sleeve and was gripped by panic. His brother was fucking dying, he had no weapon, and he had gained only a few hundred dollars. Practically fucking useless. His eyes flitted from figure to figure within the room, from the lifeless form of his brother to the mother and child, leaned in against each other with their eyes tightly closed, rocking silently backing and forth together, to the shaking form of the cashier.

Someone was missing.

Trey noticed the door behind the counter was ajar. Overalled bastard must have gone to call the police. This was that idiot's fucking fault. He hadn't meant to fire the gun, not the first time or the second, but the bastard had fucking leaped on him, practically pulled the damn trigger. This wasn't his fault. He just needed the money. The gun was only there to secure his objective. Hell, he had hoped it wouldn't come to that. He had hoped this would all be a simple exchange of cash from one brother to another. But it had all spiralled out of control.

He had to get out of there. Gripping the box of cash to his chest, Trey stood still, focusing on the door and the noises from behind it. The guy was talking. He had to get out of there before the end of that phone call. Trey cast one last look at Ryan's motionless form and for a moment guilt and sorrow overwhelmed him, nearly causing him to drop the box and crawl to his brother's side, so he could at least be there, so he wouldn't be alone at the end. They say everybody dies alone. Ryan Atwood had lived alone and would die alone.

But the impulse to turn back didn't translate to his actions. Instead, with a final glance at the back door, Trey fled, slipping out of the door at the side of the diner and into an alley, avoiding the gathering crowds.

He didn't look back.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you for reviews, keep them coming! I need feedback. The next few chapters may feel a little slow, focus is shifted onto the Cohens.

Chapter 5 

Ryan was vaguely aware of hands touching him and voices floating over his head, but it was as if the connections in his brain weren't working. He was aware of pain, but at the same time, he couldn't really focus on it through the swirling numbness that seemed to have wrapped itself over his mind, clouding every thought.

"Gunshot wound to the left shoulder, entry and exit wounds visible…." A voice stated clearly. Ryan could here the words, but he couldn't seem to decipher the meaning.

"Ok, let's take him to Chino Valley," another voice said. Ryan felt a jolt of pain sharper than anything he had yet felt as hands rolled him to the side. The resulting gasp only served to increase the pain and Ryan again felt the darkness welcome him.

Kirsten Cohen sighed as she flipped through the stack of papers on her desk. It just didn't seem to be getting any smaller.

Glancing towards the empty coffee mug, she felt a brief pang of warmth at the thought of her foster son. When Sandy had brought a juvenile delinquent into her home all that time ago, Kirsten had initially been appalled. She thought he would taint her home, turn her son into a swearing, drinking, fighting yob. But Ryan had proved her entirely wrong. Indeed, his manners put many of Newport's residents to shame. There was something refreshingly genuine about Ryan that had left her heart defenceless against him. Ryan was a little piece of reality in what was largely a superficial world. And she loved him for it. For himself and for the effect that he had had on her family.

Sighing once more, Kirsten picked up the mug and left the study. Just a quick break, she told herself. Kirsten thrived upon her work, but between Julie and her father, the stress at the moment was above and beyond the norm. The enthusiasm for work was draining out of her.

Entering the kitchen, Kirsten saw Seth at the counter, haphazardly piling fillings into a sandwich. Smiling discreetly, she crossed over to him, ruffling his hair as she enveloped him into a hug.

"Mom, the jewfro…" Seth whined. Kirsten merely smiled again.

"Not going out today?" She asked.

"Well, seeing as supposed best friend has abandoned me for the day, the love of my life is dating my- less good looking, suave and witty- clone, and basically my entire social life has taken a nose dive, no, I am not going out." Seth responded grumpily.

"So what, you're going to stay here and mope all day?" Kirsten asked.

"Mom! I am your only biological son! My life is fading away before your own eyes, and you chose to mock? Have you no sympathy for my plight?" He exclaimed, affecting a wounded tone.

Kirsten paused. "Not a whole lot." She finally responded.

Seth huffed, seeming to give up on his cause.

"Where is Ryan, anyway?" he asked. Maybe Kirsten had gotten more information from him than the "out" Seth had received.

"Oh, working with a friend. Maybe that physics project?" Kirsten answered vaguely as she sliced bread to make herself a sandwich.

Seth considered this as he pondered the best way to tackle his own sandwich, being as it was approximately three times the width of his mouth. Ryan had handed his physics project in on Tuesday. Seth was pretty sure he didn't have any other projects yet. Unless that project happened to go by the name of "Lindsay", he thought to himself with a small smile. He was sure there was some chemistry there.

"Something up, sweetie?" Kirsten questioned as she buttered bread.

Seth considered his options. If Ryan had lied to his parents, then he was up to something. But if he was in trouble, it was best to keep the rents out of it. Seth would deal with it on his own.

"No mom. I'm just a little sickened by all the possibilities of how you could slaughter that sandwich. I've got some pretty nasty visuals here. In fact, I think I'm gonna take my sandwich somewhere safe. Where you won't be able to hurt it", Seth answered, gathering his plate and heading off to his room.

Seth lay on his bead and stared at the ceiling. As the last song on the playlist on his i-pod (Songs for When Nobody Loves You) finished, Seth was plunged into silence. And he was bored. His fingers twitched over the keys of his cell phone. Seth was desperate to call Ryan. He was curious and bored. He wanted his playmate back.

Finally, Seth decided that his curiosity could wait no longer. Hitting the speed dial, he brought the phone to his ear as he let it ran. He was only slightly guilty about what he might be disrupting on the other end. He wanted details.

The phone continued to ring. Seth was on the verge of giving up when finally, a voice answered the other end.

"Hello?" A voice asked, questioning. Seth blinked. It was a female voice. Looked like Ryan really was out to play.

"Hi…and who would it be that has the pleasure of Ryan's company?" Seth asked, intrigued.

"May I ask what relation you are to Ryan Atwood?" The voice asked curtly. Seth blinked again. What on earth had Ryan got himself into?

"I think the real question here is, what relation are _you _to Ryan Atwood?" He shot back.

"This is the receptionist at Chino Valley Medical Centre. May I please know with whom I am speaking?" Seth felt his insides twist as he registered what the voice had said. His playful mood vanished, replaced with panic.

"Is Ryan OK? What's wrong? Why are you answering his phone?" Seth asked rapidly, blurring the questions together.

"Sir, may I please know what relation you are to Ryan Atwood?" The voice was insistent and struck through Seth's panic.

"I'm his foster brother," he replied after a pause.

"Are Ryan's legal guardians available to talk to?" The woman asked.

"Yeah…yeah, I'll just get my mom" Seth answered, feeling slightly dazed by the surrealness of the situation. A million questions whirred around his brain as he hurried towards the study to find his mom. Why was Ryan in Chino? Why hadn't he at least told Seth? What had happened to him? Why hadn't he called if something was wrong?

"Mom?" he called, barging into the study. Kirsten looked up startled.

"There's a woman on the phone about Ryan. She answered his phone when I called. He's at a hospital-" Seth blurted out. Kirsten reached out to grab the phone from Seth's outstretched palm, her maternal instincts suddenly in overdrive.

"Hello?" She almost yelled into the phone.

"Hello. This is the receptionist at Chino Valley Medical Centre Emergency Room. Is this Ryan Atwood's legal guardian I am speaking to?"

"Yes, yes, Kirsten Cohen, I'm Ryan's foster mom. Where's Ryan, what's wrong with him, is he ok?" the questions rushed out in much the same way that they had from Seth.

"Mrs Cohen, please stay calm. Ryan was brought in after an incident this afternoon. I'm afraid I can't give you any details over the phone. You'll need come in in person with proof concerning you're guardianship over Ryan. We've been trying to find out who to contact." The receptionist said, her cool voice quelling some of the hysteria that was rising within Kirsten.

"Ok, I'm coming in right away." Kirsten said, gripped by an illogical desire to simply get up and run all the way to Chino Valley Medical Centre. Catching sight of Seth hovering in the doorway, eyes wide and madly plucking at the material on the sleeve of his jumper, as if trying to rip it to shreds, Kirsten felt a control begin to return to her. She was in charge here. She was the adult. She had to stay calm.

"Get you're shoes Seth. We're going to Chino," she stated. Seth meekly followed her instructions, seemingly unable to make the decision himself. Kirsten grabbed the purse and went for her car keys. Realisation hit her. Ryan had one car, and Sandy had the other. He was out playing golf with some new client or other. Kirsten cursed under her breath as she scrambled for her own cell phone. She really needed to clear out her purse. It was full of crap.

Finally locating the device, she dialled for Sandy's cell, ignoring the tremble in her hand.

"Honey?" Sandy's voice was a relief to Kirsten. She felt the emotion rise within her again and fought the urge to break down in tears and have Sandy make it all better.

"Sandy, you need to get back here now. Ryan's been taken to the hospital in Chino. We need you to come and drive us there." Kirsten told him shakily.

"What?" Sandy sounded stunned. "What happened? Why is Ryan in Chino? Is he Ok?" Kirsten sighed, realising the frustration of being asked questions that she couldn't answer.

"I don't know Sandy. I don't know anything. All I know is that Ryan has been taken to hospital and we need to get there, now. You need to come get us." Kirsten said forcefully. All that she wanted was to see Ryan and make sure that he was Ok. Why couldn't the world just cooperate with her?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: have tried my best(ish…) with the medical knowledge/ police proceedings, but haven't had a great deal of life experience in these matters…

Chapter 6 

Over the whole car journey, barely two words were spoken. Sandy and Kirsten had exchanged a worried glance of understanding as Kirsten had scrambled into the car, but other than that, the silence was unnerving. The atmosphere was more fraught with tension than words could have made it. Even Seth, normally unstoppable, remained mute in the back seat, staring out of the window.

As the GPS guided the car into the parking lot of the hospital, Sandy felt the nerves build. Since he had received the call from a fraught Kirsten, over an hour ago, Sandy had convinced himself that this was nothing to worry about. He had seen Ryan just this morning. Everything had been fine. Ryan was a good kid. He wouldn't get himself into trouble now. He would tell the Cohens if he had a problem. These were the thoughts that Sandy kept rolling around his mind.

But he couldn't quite quash the other thoughts. The ones that said something _was_ wrong. That it must be a big problem if Ryan hadn't felt he could tell them. That something must be seriously wrong if Ryan had actually consented to being taken to hospital. Ryan hadn't even called himself. Kirsten said the receptionist had been having trouble working out who to get hold of. Why hadn't they just asked Ryan? These were the thoughts that pushed themselves to the fore of his mind as Sandy swung the car into an empty space and switched off the engine.

Seth hopped out of the car as soon as it drew to a halt, not waiting for his parents as he headed off to the entrance of the ER. He was struck with worry and guilt. Maybe if he'd called Ryan earlier, taken the time to work out where Ryan was going, then whatever had happened could have been avoided. Seth thought back to Ryan's behaviour that morning. He had seemed ok. Even more monosyllabic than usual, but nothing more. Seth should have pushed him for answers.

Now he just needed to know that his foster brother, his only brother, was Ok.

Kirsten slipped her hand into Sandy's strong, comforting one. He gave it a small squeeze as the two hurriedly followed Seth into the building.

"We received a phone call, our son Ryan Atwood is here?" Kirsten asked, half begging as she reached the reception desk of the ER. The woman at the phone, who Kirsten assumed was the same person she had spoken to earlier, was young, but had a sort of aura of efficiency and calm about her.

"Yes. If you would just go to the waiting room over there," she said, pointing, "someone will be with you shortly to inform you about Ryan's condition."

"Can't you tell us what's going on?" Sandy implored from behind Kirsten. She seemed to have taken the lead at some point.

"All I can tell you is that Ryan was brought in for emergency treatment this afternoon as a result of an incident nearby. As I said, someone will be with you to tell you more shortly." The woman said with a bland smile.

Sandy sighed with resignation as he gripped the still eerily quiet Seth around the shoulders and steered him towards the waiting room. Damn hospitals with their damn bureaucracy. All he wanted was to see Ryan and to know that he was OK.

The Cohens entered the waiting room and seated themselves upon the hard plastic chairs. Kirsten huffed repeatedly and stared pointedly at her watch, as if trying to hurry a so far absent doctor into coming to see them. Seth sat unnaturally still, staring at his hands, and Sandy sat restlessly fiddling.

Finally, after what seemed like an age but was in fact only about half an hour, a doctor entered the waiting room.

"Mr and Mrs Cohen?" he asked the room, glancing around at the various occupants, who had all looked up with a mixture of trepidation and hope when the doctor entered.

Sandy, Kirsten and Seth all stood up and the doctor approached.

"I'm Dr. Brenton. I've been helping to take care of your foster son." The doctor said, speaking to Kirsten and Sandy. "There's a conference room just across the hall. If you would care to follow me?" Kirsten, Sandy and Seth all made to follow the doctor. "I'm afraid the young man will have to wait here if he's under 18…" the doctor said apologetically. Sandy looked towards his son reluctantly. Seth locked eye contact with him, as if engaged with a silent battle of wills with his father, but eventually seemed to resign himself to the fact that he wasn't about to be allowed in the room.

Sandy and Kirsten followed the doctor into the small conference room and seated themselves in plastic chairs in front of the desk.

"Well I'm sure you're both very anxious to know how Ryan is doing. How much do you know of what has happened?" the doctor asked. He had a kind voice and a reassuring fatherly appearance, though he looked somewhat frayed around the edges.

"We don't know anything," Kirsten responded. "Please, tell us what's going on. When Ryan left the house earlier he was fine… why is he here?" she begged.

The doctor sighed, absent-mindedly fiddling with a pen that he had removed from his lab coat. "I can tell you what we know. You'll still have to talk to the police, and I daresay Ryan, to understand everything that happened." Sandy gripped his wife's hand. How did Ryan always seem to get caught up with the police?

"Ryan was brought in after an incident at a local diner with a gunshot wound to the left shoulder and a penetrating chest injury." Kirsten paled and Sandy gripped her hand harder. "His condition is critical. He was unconscious on arrival and is currently in surgery to have the damage repaired and the shard of glass that was embedded in his chest removed. Ryan had a collapsed lung, which we've reinflated, and he also had blood in his chest, which we're currently draining, but I'm afraid only his surgeon will be able to tell you the entire picture when he comes out of surgery." Dr Brenton paused, hoping that the parents, both of whom seemed too shocked to say anything, were taking this in. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "As for the gunshot wound to Ryan's shoulder, the bullet went straight through, which is good, but he did sustain some fairly serious muscle and tissue damage, as well as at least one bone fracture. If Ryan makes it through this, there's going to be a long recovery period."

Kirsten and Sandy sat shocked into silence.

When Kirsten's brain finally managed to sort through the information overload and pick out the most important bits of information, she finally muttered, "if..?"

Dr. Brenton's face wrinkled into a frown of confusion.

"If he recovers? There's a chance he might…not?" She forced herself to ask. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer to this question. But then she hadn't wanted to hear any of what she'd just heard. She was still hoping that she would wake up any minute now. None of this seemed real. The barrage of emotion within her was held back behind a crumbling wall. Kirsten had to humour the half hearted hope that it wasn't real, or the wall would collapse and she would be overcome with despair.

"His injuries were very serious. If he makes it through surgery, he has a good chance. But I'm afraid there are no guarantees. There is a lot of potential for complications." The doctor answered gravely. "All we can do is hope. Ryan has been in surgery for the past two or three hours. No news is good news…Do you have any further questions for the moment?" He finished, returning his pen to his pocket with an air of finality. Kirsten glanced over at Sandy for an answer, and was shocked to find his face crumpling, unable to hold back the emotion.

Yes she had questions, she had a million questions. Who had done this? How had this happened? How could her son have gone from being a healthy boy this morning, to barely clinging to life right now? Kirsten couldn't really wrap her mind around it. The only image she had in her brain was that of Ryan as he was this morning, entering her room with a mug of coffee. Until she saw otherwise, she wasn't sure she would be able to convince herself that that Ryan had been hurt.

"I… I don't think so…" Kirsten eventually replied. Now wasn't the time for all of these questions. They would be answered when they were ready to be answered.

The doctor smiled sadly at her and stood up to leave. "You can stay in here a few moments to collect yourselves if you'd like to." Then he turned and walked out of the room.

Sandy was unable to hold back and a sob ripped through him. Kirsten wrapped her arms around him in a hug, still stemming the flow of emotion behind an increasingly fragile wall. "Shh…shh," she desperately consoled. This was all wrong. If Sandy couldn't hold it together, then how could she? "We need to be strong for him Sandy," She urged.

Sandy felt the emotional onslaught begin to subside as his wife's words reached him. Kirsten was right. He needed to be strong, not just for Ryan, but for all his family.

But that was just it. He hadn't been there for Ryan. When Ryan had come to their home, Sandy had sworn to himself that he would protect him as he had protected Seth. In some ways, even more so. Ryan had had a shitty life. And Sandy knew that, as with so many of the kids that he had worked with as a P.D., the file didn't begin to scratch the surface of the story. And Sandy had sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to stop Ryan from suffering as he had done.

But he had failed. Suddenly, Sandy was filled with a consuming desire to know what had happened. Adrenaline overpowered the exhaustion that the emotion had left in its wake. Who had hurt his son? Steeling himself, he squeezed Kirsten in their embrace, wiping his eyes behind her back before breaking the embrace and standing. He was in control of himself again.

Kirsten looked up towards her husband as he stood and was relieved to see her familiar, strong, dependable Sandy, who solved problems rather than caused them.

"We should go speak to Seth." He stated, reaching for Kirsten's hand as he turned towards the door.

Seth sat in the waiting room staring towards the door, waiting for his parents return. Usually, Seth responded to difficult situations by babbling. Ryan was the silent brooding type, he was the talk-at-ten-miles-an-hour type.

But this time, possibly for the first time in his life since he had learned to talk at the premature age of one and a half, words had simply escaped him. Because there was just no way that words could solve this. Not that Seth's random strings of babbling usually solved anything. Generally they just made things worse. But they acted as a sort of shield. He could hide behind words, or he could use them as a weapon. At least they made him feel like he was actually doing something. This time there was just nothing he could do.

The door swung open and Sandy and Kirsten entered the room. Seth noted their dejected appearance and the red rims of Sandy's eyes as he shot to his feet.

"Ryan…" He asked, terrified of what he would hear.

"Sit down, son," Sandy said, wrapping an arm around Seth's shoulders. "Ryan was involved in an accident." He said, as Seth slumped back down into the seat.

"He's not- He's not dead?" Seth breathed, misinterpreting his father's words.

"No, no," Sandy rushed to reassure his son, horrified at the thought. "But he's been hurt. Badly. He was shot. We don't know much else yet, they're sending the police to talk to us." Sandy finished, sighing with remorse.

Seth was as shocked as his parents had been.

"But dad, he can't have been shot. We would have known…" Seth knew the comment was illogical, but he somehow couldn't believe that this had all happened in the space of an afternoon.

"I know Seth… We'll just have to wait…" Sandy knew how his son felt. Surely this couldn't be happening…

Over the next few hours, the clock seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly. Seth had fallen asleep, overwhelmed by the emotions of the day, Kirsten sat staring at a Newport magazine open on her lap, not having turned the page in over an hour. Sandy didn't even put on an act. He simply stared into space, with Seth's head resting on his shoulder and one of his hands wrapped around Kirsten's.

When the police officer entered the room with the receptionist from earlier, Sandy didn't even notice until she tapped him on the shoulder. Sandy made to jump up before remembering his sleeping son. Gently extricating himself from his position and leaning Seth back against the seat, Sandy stood. Kirsten looked up too, suddenly nervous. "You go Sandy… You can tell me afterwards. I want to stay with Seth."

Sandy looked at his wife appraisingly, worried that this was simply an avoidance tactic that wouldn't do her any good in the long run. But after a few moments, he decided that this was what his wife needed. She had shouldered too much of the burden today. It was his turn to take the heat.

Sandy sat with two police officers, introduced as Detective Yalescroft and Seargeant Freeman, in the conference room. Sandy was beginning to associate this room with dread. It was the second time in a day that he had been called in here to hear something he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like.

"We can only tell you as much as we know," the first officer, a middle aged detective told Sandy. "We're hoping that you might be able to fill in a few blanks." Sandy dropped his head. Ryan hadn't told them anything about where he was going today. He had lied. As much as there were other matters to focus on at them moment, Sandy couldn't quite get that out of his head. After all this time, didn't Ryan feel he could trust them? Sandy stopped the thoughts before they could go any further. He didn't know anything yet. There was no point in jumping to conclusions.

"Please, just tell me what happened. I'll help you in any way I can," he told the detective.

"We only know what the witnesses have told us at this point in time," The detective began. "Sergeant Freeman was present at the incident and has taken witness reports. Sergeant?" The detective handed over to the second officer.

"At approximately one o' clock this afternoon, Ryan entered Macy's Diner

on Fourth Street in Chino. After waiting for approximately an hour, he was joined by a Caucasian male, estimated at somewhere between 18 and 25 years. The two conversed for approximately ten minutes before the male pulled a gun from his back pocket and instructed the cashier to hand over all the money, whilst holding all of the occupants in the restaurant hostage by gun point. The cashier emptied the register and informed the male that that was all there was, at which point he began to approach the cashier in a threatening way. Another male present in the restaurant attacked the offender from behind, at which point there was a struggle. Two shots were accidentally fired by the offender and one of these hit Ryan in the shoulder, who crashed backwards through the window, resulting in a penetrating chest wound from a shard of glass. The offender took the money and ran from the restaurant and we have as yet been unable to locate him." The officer paused, giving the man before him a chance to take this in. "From the witness reports, we believe Ryan to have been both unaware and completely uncooperative in this attack."

Sandy allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief. He would never, never have suspected Ryan in been actively involved in such a crime, but other people didn't know Ryan like he did. All they knew was the file.

"Ryan referred to the offender as "Trey". We suspect that he may be Ryan's biological brother, Trey Atwood." Sandy sat frozen. He didn't know a lot about Ryan's brother, only what he had learnt from the case when he had first met Ryan and the occasional references that Ryan made to him. That and the fact that after Thanksgiving, Ryan had seemed none to keen on his brother. Sandy had no idea that Trey was even out of prison.

"I know that this is a lot to take in Mr Cohen, but we really need any information that you can give us. Especially with Ryan Atwood's… current condition." The detective said. He had spoken to the doctors. He knew there was every possibility that they would never get a chance to speak to Ryan Atwood.

"What do you know about Ryan's relationship with his brother, Mr Cohen? From the records we know about the car theft that resulted in Trey Atwood's stay in prison and Ryan's placement with you," the detective informed him. Sergeant Freeman sat taking notes.

Sandy tried to get his brain to work. It was difficult to think after the events of the day. Sandy had to block out the thoughts at the foremost of his mind, still reeling over what he had just heard, and indeed, at the entire situation.

"I'm afraid I really don't know all that much," Sandy answered honestly. "Ryan doesn't talk about his brother a whole lot. I think that their relationship has had… ups and downs. Their home environment was difficult. Trey left when Ryan was 12, but I think they saw a lot of each other. You'd have to speak to Dawn Atwood or his contacts in Chino to establish more on that. Recently though… Ryan barely mentions Trey. He went to see him last Thanksgiving in prison. I got the impression it didn't go well. Since then, I haven't been aware of any contact between the two." Sandy said.

Now that he thought about it, it seemed amazing that Sandy knew so little about Ryan's brother, indeed most of his life in Chino. He considered Ryan to be his son. He never pushed Ryan about his past; he suspected that Ryan needed some time to come to terms with it before he could talk to him about it. But Sandy had never felt more clueless about his foster son, and more hopeless to help him, than he did right now.

"Where did Ryan tell you he was going this morning?" Detective Yalescroft asked Sandy.

"My wife was the one who saw him before he left… I think he told her he was going to study with a friend… he didn't say which," Sandy answered hesitantly. Suddenly, a new thought hit Sandy. What if child services became involved in this? What if they tried to take Ryan away? Sandy forced the thought to the back of his mind along with all the other unpleasant ones that the day had raised, ready to be examined if and when it became an issue. Sandy could only cope with one thought at a time.

"Ok, Mr Cohen. That's pretty much it for now. Could I just ask if you have a contact number for Dawn Atwood?" asked detective Yalescroft. Sandy shook his head apologetically. He'd tried the last contact number for Dawn before. He hadn't expected success, and he hadn't had any. The line had been cut.

"Thank you Mr Cohen. We may need to talk to you again if we can't locate Trey Atwood, and we'll need to talk to Ryan if-" the detective mentally cursed himself, "when Ryan gets better." Sandy simply nodded, passing a hand over his eyes, and stood to exit through the door that Sergeant Freeman now held open for him. Exiting, he found Kirsten hovering outside the door.

"Sandy! He's out of surgery! They say it went as well as they could have hoped. He's in recovery for the next hour or so, and then they'll take him to the ICU and we can see him!" Kirsten said excitedly. Sandy allowed himself what felt like the first smile in days at the comparatively good news, and leaned forward to wrap Kirsten in a warm hug, kissing her head as he did so.

"We can go and wait for him in the ICU waiting lounge," Kirsten added. Sandy nodded goodbye to the detectives, then went to awaken Seth before heading up to the ICU.


	7. Chapter 7

Have lowered the rating on this stroy because I didn't think it needed to be M. Correct?

Chapter 7

Kirsten, Sandy and Seth sat on another set of uncomfortable plastic chairs, waiting for another doctor to come and see them. It had long ago become a tiring and frustrating process. Kirsten still couldn't believe it was really happening, not until she had seen Ryan. Seth looked pale and exhausted. Sandy looked dishevelled and nervous, and she dreaded to think what she herself looked like. A tiny, tired part of her mind thought that this was all a conspiracy, that at any second she would get a call from Ryan at home, asking where they all were. Kirsten barely had the energy to look up when the door opened and a female in a white coat entered the room.

"Dr. Reeves", the woman said with a small smile, holding forth a hand that Kirsten somehow summoned the energy to give a weak shake.

"I know by now you must be very impatient to see Ryan, but I'll just talk you through his current condition." Kirsten nodded at the doctor to show she understood and the woman continued. "Ryan's surgery went as well as we could have hoped. We removed a shard of glass that had penetrated the pleural membrane. Ryan now has a chest drain in to remove remaining blood and air from the cavity. We're replacing the blood he lost through transfusion, so don't be alarmed by that. We'll be monitoring Ryan's chest and heart very carefully over the next few days to check for any further complications. Ryan is still on an intubator to give his lungs the chance to recover. We'll be keeping Ryan sedated for at least a day to give his body a chance to start healing itself. Depending on Ryan's recovery, will review the situation on that in about 24 hours time.

"Additionally, we have wired the shoulder to repair the fractures that he sustained. We'll be keeping a close eye out for infection and Ryan is receiving antibiotics as a preventative measure. We won't know how badly the tissue damage has affected his movement until Ryan comes round, but for now we've done the best we can.

"Ryan also received a knock to the head from when he hit the ground, but the CT scan didn't present anything to be too concerned by, so we don't believe that it will cause any problems. But as you can gather, Ryan's condition is still critical, though we have stabilised him. We've put him on the road to recovery, and we'll be trying our hardest to make sure that things stay that way. Have you got questions?" The doctor finally asked. Kirsten and Sandy glanced at each other and shook their heads, hopeful that they would now, at last, be able to see Ryan.

"Ok then", said the doctor. "The visiting rules in the ICU for a minor are as follows. One parent can stay with Ryan, though we appreciate your understanding that the ICU is a very busy department, and ask you to allow the staff to work without interference. A second family member may visit Ryan for ten minutes every three hours, but seeing as Ryan has just arrived, I'll let you go in succession this once. Because Ryan is a minor, one of you can stay through the night. Although, tonight you may want to go and get some rest, because Ryan will be sedated," Dr Reeves suggested.

Kirsten quickly shook her head. "I'll be staying with him," she asserted. The doctor gave her a small smile. "Would you like to come and see Ryan now?" She asked.

Kirsten glanced at Sandy to check that he didn't mind her going first. At his nod of affirmation, she felt a mixture of relief and apprehension flood through her. At last she would get to see Ryan. But at the same time, the minute she set eyes on him in this condition, she would know that this was real. She wasn't about to see that Ryan was ok, she was about to see that he was not.

Gulping back tears, she stood, trying to force herself to focus on the positives: Ryan was alive and on the road to recovery. Kirsten felt butterflies fluttering around her stomach as she followed the doctor out of the lounge and over to the ICU, opposite. Kirsten was reminded, quite ridiculously, of the nervous walk she had once had as a child, after biting another member of her class, whereupon she was promptly ordered from her seat and followed the teacher to the headmistress's office for a telling off. The situation was entirely different, but the feeling was much the same.

Dr Reeves pushed open the door to the ICU and Kirsten was met with the sight of three empty white beds, surrounded by carefully stored monitors and equipment, ready for patients.

Kirsten drew her eyes towards the other end of the room, where the equipment around the bed beeped and bags of blood and fluid hung from poles at the end of the bed. She couldn't make out the form on the bed yet. Noticing that her pace had slowed to pigeon steps, Kirsten forced herself onwards towards the bed of medical paraphernalia.

And there he was.

Ryan was more tube and bandage than he was Ryan, barely recognisable with his eyes taped shut and a plastic tube extruding from his mouth, skin pale and chalky with dark circles around his eyes, made more noticeable by the dim but unnatural light of the ICU. But this was her Ryan.

Kirsten reached forwards to touch him, but found herself unable to find an exposed part of him that didn't have a tube emerging from it or a clip attached. Instead, she placed her hand over a blanketed thigh. The doctor busied herself studying the chart on the end of Ryan's bed and checking the various monitors. Kirsten squeezed his leg.

"It's all Ok now sweetie," she whispered, conscious of the doctor standing nearby and the out of sync beeping coming from behind a screen in the middle of the room, signalling the presence of another patient. "We're here for you, just waiting for you to get better and wake up." Kirsten pressed her second and third fingers against her lips, forming a kiss, and carefully placed them against Ryan's forehead. Gently squeezing his leg, she stepped back from the bed. She was going to stay the night. Now it was time to let Seth and Sandy have a turn.

---

Half an hour later, Seth and Sandy had both visited Ryan, and both had come out looking as grim as each other. Sandy just wanted to wrap Ryan in a bear hug and make everything Ok, and Seth just wanted Ryan to wake up so he could start bantering with (or at least at) him again. The self enforced quiet of the past few hours meant that Seth felt like he was ready to explode with words, but until Ryan was awake, he felt too scared to speak, worried that somehow he would jinx things, and Ryan would not get better.

Now Seth sat dejected in the corner of the waiting lounge as Sandy and Kirsten sat huddled and whispering.

"Now that we've seen him Sandy, now that I know how he is, I'm ready to hear it. What happened?" Kirsten asked Sandy. Over the past few hours, what had happened had been of secondary importance to Ryan's health. Now Kirsten had accepted his physical condition, she needed to know what had happened to him. Maybe then she could accept what had happened.

Sandy paused, considering carefully how to phrase the events to his wife. On the one hand, he needed her to hear the truth. But on the other hand, he was furiously angry that Trey, Ryan's own brother, was the reason that his son was lying in a room half dead right now. Sandy was a lawyer, and an expert at talking his way through situations and colouring the facts. But right now, he didn't know how he could stop anything but an angry outpouring of his own thoughts and feelings. Since the moment the police had informed him of the facts, he had been unable to stop his own, dramatised version from playing out in his head. Finally, he settled on a simplified version of the bare details that the police had told him.

"Ryan went to meet his brother Trey at a diner in Chino. They sat and talked, then after a few minutes Trey pulled a gun out of his pocket and demanded all the money in the diner and held all the customers, including Ryan, hostage. But one of the other hostages jumped Trey. There was a struggle and the gun was accidentally discharged. Ryan was shot and fell back through a glass window. Trey ran. They haven't caught him." Sandy's voice shook as he ran through the explanation but his face remained stony.

Kirsten took a deep, wavering breath and buried her face in her hands before letting the air out in a defeated sigh. Her son, brought into her home so they could protect him from the world, and once again, he had been hurt by a member of his own family. But unlike Sandy, Kirsten was able to push Trey to the back of her mind. When Ryan had been hurt by his mother before, it was the Cohen's who had been left to pick up the pieces. As dramatic as it sounded, they had rescued Ryan. And now they would do it again. They were his family now, and all that mattered right now was that Ryan got better. Kirsten was glad to know the facts of the situation, but that was all she needed. She wouldn't let it affect her priorities.

Taking a steadier breath, Kirsten lifted her head from her hands and looked Sandy in the eye. Sandy was amazed by the composure on his wife's face, and despite the mixture of anger, guilt, and worry that assaulted his mind from every angle, he felt a rush of love and warmth towards his wife. No words were needed.

A/N: massively cheesy, I know. I feel like I may have lost my way a bit with this chapter, it didn't flow very easily. I need opinions! Please review if you read.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Kirsten persuaded Sandy and Seth to go and check into a hotel whilst she stayed the night.

Settling into the chair by the bead (or at least as it was possible to settle into the stiff foam contraption), Kirsten turned again to look at Ryan. The longer she stared at him, the more she saw through the tubes and bandages to the boy that lay underneath. It was a relief to see that he was still there, though he looked vulnerable in a way that she had never seen him before, not even when Dawn left. Because if nothing else, Ryan usually had his physical strength to support him, and that acted as just enough of a support to keep the emotional barriers in place.

But now Ryan had to be both physically and emotionally shattered, and Kirsten didn't know how he was going to manage to keep the barriers up when all his strength had left him. If he tried to keep the walls up, would they ever get through to him? Kirsten prayed that Ryan could trust them enough to let the barriers down, at least until he was well enough to put them back up again. But with this latest betrayal, would Ryan be able to find it in him to trust anyone, or would he finally decide that it was easier just to give up on the world and retreat into himself?

Kirsten was torn with worry over the thought that that could happen to Ryan, but thinking back over his behaviour she was worried that his response would indeed be exactly that. Kirsten could recall practically every word that Ryan had spoken during his first few weeks with the Cohens, simply because there had been so few. Every movement had been furtive, every glance had been momentary, and quickly dropped, and every emotion had been closely guarded.

So it wouldn't surprise Kirsten at all if now, with yet another blow within his short life, if Ryan didn't decide it was easier simply to shut himself off, and stop himself from feeling anything at all.

Kirsten dreaded to think of the outcome if that happened. Ryan needed them now more than ever.

Kirsten sighed as she felt tears sting her eyes. Ryan's whole, short, life had been a tragedy. She just wanted a chance to turn that around.

With that unsettling thought still in mind, Kirsten drifted into a sleep as cold and sterile as the ICU.

---

Sandy lay on the bed in the cheap motel room and stared at the ceiling, eyes unblinking. The room was not quite dark, owing to the broken drapes, half hanging off the plastic hooks, which allowed the light from the harsh yellow street lights to flood into the room, illuminating its shabby state.

On the second bed, Seth slept fitfully and lightly, tangling the blankets around his legs. But Sandy couldn't even give in to such respite. Despite the grainy feeling of exhaustion in his eyes, they seemed almost glued open, resolutely staring at the plaster swirl of the ceiling. He just couldn't shut off the flurry of thoughts that ran through his mind.

On the one hand, Sandy was still fraught with worry over the thought of Ryan, terrified that something would happen in the night and he would never see his foster son again. But battling for importance with this was the image of Ryan's biological brother, running from the devastation he had caused, leaving Ryan, his flesh and blood, to die alone in some cheap diner.

It was enough to bring tears of anger and sadness to his eyes, but, almost frustratingly, the dehydration caused by endless cups of coffee and lack of proper sustenance, coupled with the emotional and physical exertion of the day, meant that Sandy could not cry. He wished he could. It might have served as emotional catharsis, allowing him to clear his mind for the few remaining hours of the night so that he could sleep. But tears refused to come.

Instead, the feelings of anger, fuelled by his own guilt, grew, and Sandy found himself slipping into lawyer mode. Trey needed to be found so he could be punished for his crimes, intentional and unintentional. Tomorrow (or today as it now was), just as soon as it was socially acceptable to call, Sandy would make sure that the police realised that this had to be the forerunning case. He would do everything he needed to; he would even get the press involved if it would help. Trey needed to be caught so he could be brought to justice.

Subconsciously, Sandy realised that by entering his professional state of mind, Sandy was distancing himself from the reality of the situation, and the fact that this time it was _his_ son who was the victim of the crime. He ignored the fact that it was Ryan, and Ryan's family who would be publicised if he went to the press. By focusing on his anger, he was able to quash a little of the worry, and push back the feelings of failure.

---

By the morning, when Seth and Sandy arrived back at the hospital, the Cohens did not look any better for wear. None of them had had very much, or very restful, sleep, and they were all still in the same clothes that they had donned the day before, which now felt like a lifetime ago. Kirsten had washed off her make up from the day before after realising in the bright lights of the washroom that part of the cause of the black bags under her eyes was mascara smudging. Now she looked tired, pale and drawn, and the lightly etched wrinkles, shadows and blotches that she usually covered meticulously

were there for all to see, worsened by the emotions of the past 24 hours.

But none of the Cohens were particularly bothered by appearances at this point. Sandy had woken up (if he had slept at all, he couldn't quite work it out) in fully-fledged lawyer mode, and had already arranged to meet again with the police officers handling Ryan's case.

Meanwhile, Seth had awoken in a jittery mood, and the verbal diarrhoea was back, more nonsensical and irritating than it had ever been.

The intermittent sleep that Kirsten had managed between the bouts of activity in the ICU left Kirsten feeling hazy, almost floaty, blurring the lines between reality and dreams.

So the Cohen family reunion wasn't the most lively of events. Especially given the obvious absence of one member - the reason for their current states. No one had really been thinking past the next few minutes of the day, which meant that they were all unsure of what was going to happen next, and no one had been informed of the reason that the Cohens had suddenly upped and left. Kirsten had turned off her cell after the 19th missed call, either from Julie or her father.

"Morning, sweetie," Sandy said, leaning forwards to peck his wife on the cheek.

"Mom, looking very chipper this morning. Nice scent too, what is that, eau de disinfectant?" Seth questioned. Kirsten looked at her son with a mixture of resigned annoyance and surprise. The last time she had seen her son, he had been the least verbal he had been since he had learnt to talk. This morning, he seemed back to his usual self. Kirsten wasn't sure whether to be glad that the son she knew and loved was back, or annoyed at the inappropriate Cohen sense of humour that he appeared to have inherited from his father.

"So honey, what do you say we go visit Ryan and then go get some breakfast?" Sandy suggested. Kirsten was pleased, though a little surprised by the adjustment that seemed to have taken place in her family overnight. Yesterday, they had seemed a broken shell, just going through the motions. This morning, well, she wasn't quite sure what this was yet. It was almost surreal to be going through normal routines when things were so obviously not normal. But Kirsten felt too out of it to second guess, and for the moment she was happy for someone to direct her, because she sure as hell didn't know how she was meant to be acting. She would study the family dynamics later, when she was fully in control of her own thoughts and emotions.

Smiling at Sandy, she answered, "Sure honey. Seth, you want to go see Ryan?" Kirsten wanted a few minutes alone with her husband, and thought Seth would be grateful to settle his anxiety by visiting Ryan. Ryan didn't look much better than yesterday. In fact, the circles around his eyes had become darker, and his face seemed more gaunt than it had the day before. But nevertheless, the machines continued to beep, evidence that Ryan was holding his own. Over the course of the night, when Kirsten had awoken from her light sleep, she had found herself lulled into sleep by the reassuring rhythm of the beeps.

But to her surprise, at her question, Seth's face, which had been open and animated, closed, and his lips drew into a tight line. "Erm, I'm actually really hungry mom. I don't think I can wait. I'll head down to the cafeteria and get us a table. Early bird catches the worm and all that." And with that, he was off down the corridor at a brisk stride.

Kirsten frowned. She knew that Seth had a habit of running away from problems, and she hoped that wasn't what he was trying to so. Ryan wouldn't get better if Seth ignored the situation; in fact, it was likely to cause quite the opposite.

"Sandy…?" She said, doubtfully, looking up to gaze at her husband.

"You go join Seth, I'll come down in a minute," Sandy responded, heading into the ICU.

---

For the second time in 24 hours, Sandy stared upon the broken face of his foster son, lifeless and lax, vulnerable. Placing a strong hand on Ryan's forehead, covered by his now limp, sandy hair, Sandy sighed.

"Don't worry kid now. I'm here now. Me, Kirsten and Seth. Your real family. I'm never going to let anything hurt you again. But you gotta cooperate with us kid. We have to know what's going on in that head of yours," Sandy half pleaded with the unconscious Ryan. Stroking the hair from Ryan's eyes, Sandy continued, "I'm going to find him Ryan. I'm going to make sure that he won't be the one to hurt you again." Staring upon Ryan, Sandy felt the determination grow within him. He needed to _do_ something. It was not enough to simply sit here and wait for others to do it for him. Sandy wanted nothing more to get in his car and drive around until he hunted Trey down. He realised that this probably wasn't the most logical or efficient course of action, but at least he wouldn't feel so utterly helpless.

Sandy jumped as the door to the ICU opened and a swarm of doctors entered. Sandy vaguely recognised Dr Reeves from the haze that was the night before, and flashed her a shadow of a smile.

"Good morning, Mr Cohen", the doctor said, her tones a well practised mix of professionalism and compassion. Dr Reeves unhooked the chart from the end of Ryan's bed as the other doctors hovered behind her. Sandy assumed they were interns. "Ryan's doing well," she continued, "I'll remove him from the ventilator and start weaning him off the sedatives this afternoon and hopefully he'll wake up this evening," she said, smiling at Sandy. This time, Sandy answered with a toothy grin, his face settling into familiar smile lines. Sandy went to clap Ryan on the shoulder before realising that this was probably a bad idea, and instead settled for another gentle sweep of his hand across Ryan's forehead. "That's great Dr Reeves. I'll go tell my wife. Thanks very much." Sandy arose with something approaching enthusiasm, and headed off towards the cafeteria.

A/N: I've been holding this chapter back for a while because I like to have a next chapter written before I post a new one, and I haven't yet, but I wanted to keep this story active, so here it is. I'm a bit busy at the moment, so don't quite know when the next chapter will be. Reviews will help to get it up quicker! Thanks to everyone that has reviewed.


End file.
